


Five Times Five

by Imagined



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Blood and Violence, Character Death Fix, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt Stephen Strange, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Instability, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Stephen Strange, References to Sex, Reincarnation, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 12:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20426258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagined/pseuds/Imagined
Summary: ‘’There was no other way,’’ Stephen says. Tony is looking at him with wide eyes – he’s always had these dark eyes, and Stephen wants to see them as long as he can – while holding his bleeding side, almost as if he can’t believe what’s going on.‘’Why did you do that?’’ he asks, and his voice is so broken. Stephen doesn’t remember the last time they met under such circumstances. He wishes this life could’ve been different, and has to take a deep breath to stop himself from falling into Tony’s arms.He already knows what has to happen to make sure they save the world. He wishes he could save Tony, but he has lived too many lives to be that naïve. This is the one lifetime in which Stephen will sacrifice his own happiness instead of hunting it –and hope that he can get one more chance, after this life. Maybe the next one.All he has left is the next one.





	Five Times Five

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags, please.

_24._

‘’There was no other way,’’ Stephen says. Tony is looking at him with wide eyes – he’s always had these dark eyes, and Stephen wants to see them as long as he can – while holding his bleeding side, almost as if he can’t believe what’s going on.

‘’Why did you do that?’’ he asks, and his voice is so broken. Stephen doesn’t remember the last time they met under such circumstances. He wishes this life could’ve been different, and has to take a deep breath to stop himself from falling into Tony’s arms.

He already knows what has to happen to make sure they save the world. He wishes he could save Tony, but he has lived too many lives to be that naïve. This is the one lifetime in which Stephen will sacrifice his own happiness instead of hunting it –

and hope that he can get one more chance, after this life. Maybe the next one.

All he has left is the next one.

~*~

_1._

‘’It’s not a simple spell,’’ his teacher says. His voice is stern but understanding, even as he peeks over Stephen’s shoulder to watch the book. ‘’A mere fancy. I’ve never known a wizard who was able to cast it. And this is not our interest, young man. You are a healer – this is _maleficium_, dark magic. Only the demon-worshippers would use such a spell.’’

Stephen’s fingers trace the short poem that sits next to the spell. ‘’Then why do we have it?’’ he asks rather drily.

The man takes the book from Stephen and closes it rather firmly, returning it to the appropriate shelf. They do not have such libraries as the Roman Catholic convents – their society is far more clandestine and their practices hidden, though only recently. Witchcraft is being condemned nowadays, even if the reasons strike Stephen as particularly odd.

‘’Knowledge, Stephen,’’ his mentor says. ‘’How can we know for sure that we are on the right path unless we know what the wrong path is? There are always ways our powers can be used for bad – that does not mean we should do it.’’

The London Home for Witchcraft is Stephen’s sanctuary, in those days. He forgets about the spell soon enough –

until he finds himself using it, of course. And the world starts unravelling.

~*~

_9._

Tony isn’t a good person, in this one. He has lost his way after losing his wife, and he never quite got it back. He got into the darkest corners of the city, instead.

(Stephen isn’t sure he is such a good person, either. Tony never remembers, and he isn’t sure what it says about him that he keeps coming back for more.)

But at night, things feel a bit brighter. When Tony laughs as Stephen kisses trails up his spine, and the way his nails leave marks on Stephen’s own back in more passionate moments.

He almost forgets that he is paying for this pretend-love, especially when Tony repeatedly forgets asking for payment. He can almost act as if they’re happy, when Tony kisses him goodbye after nights. When Tony’s smiles grow softer and secretive, and they don’t mention their days.

They both die for this, of course. But it’s more happiness than Stephen has had in a long while, and he’s learnt to appreciate everything he gets.

~*~

_3._

The fire burns in her hand without hurting her. The licking flames are mirrored in her eyes and make her pale face look even whiter than it already is. Stephen is under no impression she will stop asking questions – the memories are faint, but they still hurt. He remembers being taken from the Home, the noose put around his neck. Tony’s screaming going unheard in the crowd.

‘’And your second life?’’ Gillian asks. Stephen does not know if his newfound apprentice even believes his story - but he hadn’t told anyone, before, and she is the best company he’s had in three lifetimes. Barring Tony, of course.

‘’Rather quiet,’’ he answers, and thinks back to Tony’s face in the second life. He’d been more naive, by then - he already knows that none of this is going to be easy. But he gave Tony twenty-five lives, for better or worse, and Stephen will keep reincarnating until Tony’s lives are done.

She leans back, regarding him with her clear blue eyes. ‘’And your teacher was honestly called the Old One?’’ There is a hint of amusement in her voice.

Stephen shrugs. ‘’Maybe I just forgot his name.’’

‘’You’re building a new place for sorcerers - the Sanctum, you called it?’’ At Stephen’s hum, she continues. ‘’Perhaps you should call yourself ‘the Ancient One’. A nod to tradition, so to say.’’

He can’t help but snort. ‘’This is my third lifetime, yes, but I’m hardly that old,’’ he says. ‘’Perhaps in a few decennia.’’

‘’If you don’t take the title, I will,’’ she says with a lilting tease. ‘’You do know I will follow you to your new Sanctum, don’t you?’’

‘’Oh, Ancient One,’’ he sighs, smiling at his apprentice, ‘’I had counted on it.’’

~*~

_24._

Stephen holds up one finger - one chance. Tony’s eyes widen imperceptibly, but Stephen knows that he is fully aware of what needs to be done. _There was no other way._

But Tony comes through, in the end (he always does, and this is both their curse and saving grace). 

He snaps.

He dies.

It shouldn’t be so painful anymore, after all he has seen. Stephen knew that Tony was going to die, this time around - he had arranged for it. He killed Tony, and even after twenty-four lives, that’s a first. 

There is no more saving Tony, this time around. He wants to cry, but no tears come.

Perhaps that is for the best. He’s not sure he deserves the relief. 

~*~

_23._

Stephen doesn’t know which of all his lives are the worst. He does not know if it’s the ones where Tony falls in love with him and dies, or if is the ones where Stephen never knows him.

(He does know which ones hurt the most – the ones where Tony dies in his arms, from consumption or a gunshot or anything else that has taken Tony away from him in all their lifetimes. He knows the agony that claws up his chest in those moments, when Tony’s lively eyes dull and his fingers stop moving. But at least Tony loved him, in those lifetimes. At least he had him, for a while.)

Maybe the worst lifetimes are the ones where Tony politely smiles, and says ‘’That’s all, isn’t it?’’

Some of the worst lifetimes are the ones where Stephen knows that Tony is alive, knows what he looks like now, and has to let him walk.

(But the actual worst ones are the ones like this one, where he’s a doctor and he can see an eight-year-old boy – where he tries to make him breathe time and time and time and time –

Tony never wakes up again, still so young and bright and Stephen has to live with that. He has seen Tony die far too young far too many times; but this one hurts. Tony does not look like he is at peace – he looks like he is in pain, and like he wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for Stephen.

Maybe he can choose not to live with this.)

~*~

_1._

There is always an idea going on in Tony’s head. There is a whirlwind of ideas, improvements for weapons – none of which they have money for, of course, but Stephen humours him. He likes the way that his friend’s face lights up when he’s discussing such things, even if Stephen has little interest in any of them.

But then Tony turns to him, his eyes so bright and open, and kicks Stephen out of nowhere.

‘’What’s that for?’’ Stephen asks.

Tony merely shrugs. ‘’You’re not as good of a liar as you think you are,’’ he says, his expression easy and unguarded. ‘’Especially not with me. You’re bored.’’

They are sixteen and Stephen doesn’t yet know how many centuries he’ll see before this is over.

‘’You think you know me that well?’’ he asks. Tony laughs – and that is even more of an improvement. His entire body laughs with him, carefree. There are a thousand things to finish before they do even have any time off, but no one will know. They are completely out of sight, here, and no one ever cares to check on them.

Stephen surges forward, holding Tony’s face between his hands as he kisses him. Tony relaxes into his grip and leans against him.

‘’You can’t ever surprise me, Stephen,’’ Tony says as they break apart. ‘’I know you’ve been wanting to do that.’’

‘’Then why didn’t you do it before?’’ Stephen asks him, still slightly dazed. He’s still holding onto Tony, and he doesn’t mean to stop.

Tony grins. ‘’You’re a sorcerer,’’ he says, and pecks his lips. ‘’I shouldn’t make things too easy for you. Kiss me again, now.’’

He just laughs. ‘’Only because you’re so convincing.’’

~*~

_13._

This is perhaps the bitterest death that Stephen has to suffer -

Tony looks up at him, his eyes pure liquid and fear. His knife is buried in Stephen’s abdomen and every part of him hurts. He had not even considered seeing Tony here, as he’d heard a burglar walking around his house. 

‘’I’m sorry,’’ Tony says, and he helps Stephen to the ground when his legs turn to mush. ‘’I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -’’

He must have startled Tony - maybe he hadn’t expected anyone to be home. That will teach Stephen to stop creating portals to his own home and go through the front door instead. 

‘’Tony,’’ he mutters, lifting his hand to touch Tony’s frightened face. ‘’It’s alright. I forgive you. Take whatever you need, it’s okay.’’

Tony starts and gently lies him down, despite the panic in his face. Perhaps he is afraid because Stephen knows his name, and there’s not enough life left in him to explain. He dies on the ground while he listens to the sound of his murderer running away.

To _Tony_ running away, leaving Stephen lying lifelessly in his own puddle of blood.

~*~

_24._

Tony sits opposite him, his hand lying on Stephen’s arm. There is no awareness in his face; no recognition beyond that which is expected. Stephen longs to fall into his arms and cry as his chest heaves. He gasps for breath, finding only comfort in the feeling of Tony’s fingers on his burning skin.

This will be all he has, this lifetime. He has never had to mourn before the fact, although he is well aware – twenty-five lifetimes, and beyond death.

They are nearing the twenty-five, and Stephen does not know what will happen afterwards. He does not know anything for certain, anymore.

‘’You alright?’’ Tony asks, and his voice is low and rough. His gaze does not leave Stephen’s – he remembers the first time he saw those eyes. He has known for a while, and chosen not to interfere. Not while Tony was happy and safe – well, for a relative term of safe.

He wonders if he made the right choice. He has seen fourteen million futures – his own past lives do not seem to matter so much, in the grand scheme of things. Maybe he doesn’t matter – neither of them do.

(_This is not about you_, the Ancient One tells him, the night that he remembered. The night that she died. It’s not even about Tony, this time.)

He clutches at the man’s arm even as he meets Tony’s eyes, memorizing his features. He never changes much, but there is enough. He has some grey hairs on his temple. At least he managed to grow old enough for that.

Tony watches him, and Stephen’s heart breaks a little as he explains what they have to do.

~*~

_20._

There is a battlefield. There is dust and blood, and Stephen tries to ignore the agonized screams of both friend and foe as he crouches down.

Tony is gasping for breath, his eyes shining with unshed tears. One hand is pressed to the wound in his stomach – the other is clenching painfully at Stephen.

‘’You have to go.’’

His voice is rough from pain, and he grimaces as he tilts his head back. Stephen cradles his face immediately, not willing to be parted from him. Not again.

He was a doctor in his former life, though he was forced to be a soldier in this one. It had brought him Tony, however – and now it will take him.

Not that it makes a difference. Tony had still died in the last life, taking Stephen with him. The illness had gotten them both, despite Stephen’s expertise and skills. Even if he finds Tony, staying alive is harder than he thought.

‘’I’m not leaving,’’ Stephen says, trying to lay down Tony more comfortably in his lap. He had hoped that things might turn out differently. Maybe this would be the life, he’d thought – maybe this would be the life they could try to get a happy ending. It would be like them, he thinks, to find their eventual happiness in the middle of a world war.

Then again, it wouldn’t be like them to get a happy ending at all. He had slightly forgotten that.

‘’Stephen,’’ Tony mutters, and his fingers tremble as they move to Stephen’s face, caressing his cheek. ‘’You’ve got to live. They’re coming, please – you have to go. You can’t die for me. It’s too late for me, but you – you can find someone else. Please.’’

Stephen shakes his head and presses Tony’s hand against his cheek, willing it to keep stroking him. These words – it’s almost a mirror of the last goodbye Tony said to him, a lifetime ago.

‘’I’m not leaving,’’ he says, echoing his own words from years and years ago, pressing a quick kiss against the bloody and grimy fingers. ‘’I can’t love anyone else, Tony. All the time, all my life, I’m looking for you. It’s all I ever do. It’s the only thing that ever matters. I’ve only got five more, if you go now. There’s only five more.’’

Tony grimaces but he does not make a sound. Perhaps he is trying to be brave for Stephen – still trying to mask his pain, so Stephen can leave. Live out a peaceful live – except he doesn’t want to. He’d rather die here with Tony.

A few months of a secret relationship. Maybe it’s all he’ll ever get.

‘’Five more what?’’ Tony asks, and Stephen doesn’t know why Tony would think it’s significant. He is talking for himself as much as he is for his lover, at this point – there’s no reason for him to pick up on it, especially when he is hurting so badly.

‘’Five more lives,’’ Stephen whispers, holding Tony’s pain-muddled gaze. ‘’This is twenty. And I’ll have to wait until you come back, so I’d rather go with you. Five times five, Tony.’’

‘’Five times five,’’ Tony repeats. His voice is a whisper full of recognition, the pain of dying battling the pain of something else. Stephen tightens his grip. ‘’The heart is full five times five, I’ll find you again alive –‘’

‘’Tony,’’ Stephen mutters. The whispers are hard to hear over the sounds of the battle – the enemy moving closer. They have only minutes, perhaps less, and yet.

He has not heard that rhyme in over six centuries. The accumulation of twenty lives, and now something is coming through. Tony has never remembered anything before, and Stephen does not know what to do.

(He thinks of several lifetimes ago, hanging on the noose in Salem. He thinks of Tony yelling out his name despite having never met him there. He’d believed it to be his imagination running wild in his final moments, but - Tony has never remembered anything before, has he?

_Has_ he?)

‘’Five times five, I’ll find you again alive,’’ Tony says again, and strains to smile at Stephen. ‘’I’ll find you in the next one. I promise, I’ll find you, Stephen. I’ll find you. We’ll be happy.’’

His eyes close and Stephen bows over the lifeless body, feeling the tears spill. They mingle with the blood and dirt on Tony, but none of that matters. He can hear the shouts of their enemy, walking past the countless corpses on the muddy ground. He does not care about this war – he only cares about his own continuous battle. He only cares about getting a lifetime with the man who just died under his hands, the man who has never remembered before but did now. And Stephen doesn’t know why.

The bullet in his brain is nothing more than a relief.

~*~

_1._

Every tale has a beginning. The thing is that sometimes it’s hard to trace back all the way through years and decades long forgotten. Stephen has trouble remembering his parents’ names – has trouble remembering everything about that first life. He only remembers a few specific things.

He remembers a young boy. He always smiles eagerly, and his hands are rough and strong from working with the smiths. His father beats him, but his mother loves him. He is like all other boys in this time – they don’t get far, and they don’t get old. Stephen does not know this, of course – it is only his first life. He does not even know, at that point, that he will live more than once.

They are both sixteen and they have known each other for years. Stephen does not remember what he said – he’d made a joke, maybe, because he knows that Tony laughed. He remembers surging in – unable to stop himself, anymore, his chest so heavy and desperate and needy. He didn’t know, then, how much that pressure would feel like dying from consumption.

He hadn’t known a lot of things back then.

But he'd known that Tony was everything, and Tony had kissed him back, and they’d kept it a secret. They’d kept it going, ignoring the rest of the world.

It’s just a shame the world hadn’t ignored them back.

~*~

_11._

Stephen is a mere four-year-old child. He has acquired all his memories already – young but not unprecedented, for him. It is not the first time he has lived with the recollections of all his former years as a child, though it keeps getting harder to pretend. He mostly just keeps quiet and stays out of his parents’ ways while he tries to make it through yet another life.

Trying to find Tony, as always.

His mother holds his hand, though she does not pay him any attention. It is just for the best – Stephen is not paying any attention to her, either. He just looks solemnly at the unassuming cross. There is not even a name. He doesn’t think the child lived long enough to be named.

‘’Mary,’’ his mother says, her other hand on her friend’s shoulder, rubbing gently. ‘’There is nothing you could’ve done. Nothing.’’

The woman continues sobbing over the cross. Stephen would feel for her, had he not been so numb. There is no way to be certain of anything, of course, no way to _know_. And yet – there is a tinge of magic in the air, prickling Stephen’s skin. There is the way he feels when he stares at that cross, so heavy and solemn.

Tony’s mother is often called something like this. Maria, her name had been in the first life, Stephen remembers. Mary, she is called now. And perhaps there is nothing to prove, but Stephen knows nonetheless.

Tony has never been stillborn, before. Stephen feels the tears pricking in his eyes, and lets one fall just to see how it feels. His mother does not see, still trying to console her friend.

No, Tony has always had a chance to live. He tries to remember what life it was that Tony had died so early, before – he’d never gotten the chance to get old. It’s simply the way of life, of course, and they have never been lucky. He thinks it was the seventh life, when Tony had died as a child. He’d been eight years old, and he’d been Stephen’s childhood friend.

He wonders how long it will take for Tony to be reborn. It could take as little as one year, but it could be more. There’s no rules, after all. Just magic.

‘’He was going to be my little boy,’’ Mary sobs, her fingers running over the cross. ‘’My little Anthony. My little Anthony is dead.’’

‘’You’ll have other boys,’’ his mother murmurs. ‘’You’ll have lots of sons. There will be an Anthony, I promise.’’

His mother had lost plenty of children, before he came. There must have been two Stephens before him, he thinks. Not that it matters – she is lying, though she does not know it. There will be no other such children for her – this one was special.

Maybe Mary can feel it, the way she is weeping over a child she never saw take a breath. The death of a baby is painful but a part of life, and yet –

Stephen worms loose from his mother and walks away. His mother lets him, probably secure in the knowledge he has always been a wise child and will not wander too far. He feels a stab of sorrow for the worry she will feel soon – she and her husband, both kind people. He has not felt close to the people who raised him for quite a few lives already, and he can’t feel anything more than a distant pity for the tears she will shed over her lost child.

Who knows how long he will have to wait for Tony to be reborn? He walks and walks and does not turn back. This life holds nothing for him, now.

~*~

_24._

Morgan Stark does not cry at the funeral. Stephen thinks of the First World War – only a few lifetimes ago. Four, to be exact. He thinks of Tony remembering Stephen, in the end, remembering the chant. _Five times five_. He thinks of Tony dying, and Stephen trying to save him. In this war, Stephen had sacrificed him.

Tony is going to be reborn only once more. And with everything that has happened so far, Stephen does not trust that it will end well. It never has before, after all. It’s simple chance.

But that one moment, during the World War – he remembers. The whispered promises in the dark, the secret kisses and touches and pleasured gasps. The blood staining his hands, at the end, Tony pleading for him to save himself. Tony has never known that Stephen cannot be saved.

Tony has had children before. He’s been married before – Stephen has never bothered being jealous of any of the women Tony shared his bed with. He and Tony have a connection that goes beyond any mortal marriage – either by bond or by Stephen’s curse. But Morgan pulls at all his heartstrings. She is so like her father and Stephen cares so much. Pepper is unlike the other wives that Tony has had, brilliant and kind and beautiful. And Stephen is so glad he never tried to come in between that, if he even could have. Even if he misses Tony with everything he has.

Twenty-three lives before this one, and Stephen has tried to save Tony in all of them. Whenever he could, he’s taken care of Tony and given him everything that he could possibly offer. But Gillian was right – _this is not about you_. It is not even about Tony, and that is new for him. To save the world and to save the future, Tony had to die, in this lifetime. And Stephen hates himself for it, though he can’t regret it.

Stephen has ignored the Sanctums for too long. He started it and Gillian continued it, and he hasn’t looked back ever since. But now Dormammu has come, as has Thanos, and the world is under threat. Stephen has never had a higher calling, but maybe – this can be it. Tony will be reborn, and Stephen cannot control when it will be. He is tired of trying to.

He has ended it for himself, before. He will not take that path now. He will be the Sorcerer Supreme and lead the world to something new, something better for Tony to be reborn into. For his final life on this Earth to be something better. For Morgan, so she can grow up somewhere safe. Under Stephen’s protection.

He sits down next to her, when Happy Hogan leaves. She turns to him. ‘’You’re the sorcerer, aren’t you?’’ she says. Despite the tragedy of the situation, there is a curiosity in her eyes. She is sharp. ‘’Are there… limits, to magic?’’

Stephen smiles. He knows what she will ask him – and she can’t.

‘’Magic always has a price,’’ he tells her, and takes her hand. ‘’Your father is not dead, Morgan. Not as long as you and your mother are here – he’ll always love you. And the entire world will remember him. He’s still here with you, in everything you are.’’

She takes a deep breath. Maybe she has cried before the funeral – maybe she is out of tears. She is only a young girl, after all. She reminds him of Gillian, a bit.

‘’I miss him,’’ she says quietly.

‘’Death is what gives life meaning,’’ he says, thinking of his old student, watching the snow. Perhaps they are not words to tell a child who just lost her father. Tony would have just smiled at him, that half-grin, with eyes soft. His hair had greyed, in this lifetime. Stephen had given him five more years to build something that would last, and he had. Tony always comes through.

Morgan stays quiet. She tightens her hold on his hand, however, and that is an answer all by itself.

~*~

_19._

‘’Are you Doctor Strange?’’

The voice comes – Stephen does not shy away. A young man stands before him, his face tight. He wonders what brings him here, at this late hour.

‘’Why?’’ he asks, and his heart beats loudly in his chest as he recognizes who stands in front of him – despite never having seen him. Not in this life.

It is not hard to recognize him. There is something in his demeanour that tells Stephen all he needs to know, and he waits for an answer. The man scrunches his nose at him. He is wearing a good suit and his hair is groomed. This Tony is completely different from who he met in the life before this – he had been a harsh man, and he’d thrown Stephen out. He’d never managed to find him, again.

The man before him is certain and keen, clearly regarding him. ‘’Are you the doctor, yes or no?’’

He lets out a heavy sigh. ‘’Yes. How can I help you?’’

‘’It’s my father,’’ Tony says – is that his name, in this life? Stephen will certainly always think of him by this name. ‘’He is ill. We have another doctor, usually, but he cannot help this time. He says it’s nearing the end – and I can’t – he’s not –‘’

Stephen regards him. Tony cannot be over thirty yet – he seems to be in his mid-twenties. Stephen isn’t much older right now – that has been different, in the past. Tony may have been cursed, and Stephen is bound to him, but there is no guarantee they are the same age all the time. Tony has lived more lives by now than he has, if Stephen’s calculations are correct. Then again, it does not matter how often Stephen has lived.

It only matters how often Tony has lived. Five times five, but they are not there yet. Not quite.

He will have to be cautious about how he wants to do this. He has a chance, here – a chance for a lifetime. A chance to do things differently, perhaps. And he cannot appear over-eager.

‘’What’s wrong with him?’’ he asks, masking his emotions. He has plenty of experience with acting. Seeing Tony again, for the first time in this lifetime – it will never stop making his chest ache with pain and memories and love.

Tony sighs, moving on his feet. Stephen remembers another lifetime, when he’d nursed Tony to his death. That had been a good life, even if it had ached in his every bone to see Tony love someone else. To know what they could be – to see the wondering looks that Tony sent his way, sometimes – and yet to play. To live in the same house, playing a servant, not allowed to touch. It’s hard to act like he is a stranger, sometimes.

Well. All the time.

‘’The White Plague,’’ Tony mutters, and Stephen could have guessed. Consumption is a greedy killer, in this day and age. It strikes everywhere and everyone – the rich and poor, the old and young.

Tony does not look like he comes from a poor family, this time. If their doctor has given up on his father already, it most likely is a lost case. All he can do is make sure Tony and the rest of his potential family do not catch the disease – and yet. Tony is still standing there, his hands in his pockets and his face resolute. He will not abandon his father, not in this lifetime. And Stephen has never been able to stop himself from being near Tony when he had the chance.

What is death to him, after all? What is death, when this is Tony’s nineteenth life and there are still six left to go?

‘’I will come and see him,’’ Stephen says quietly, and does not stop to ask himself what he will achieve with these pointless actions when he sees Tony look so relieved.

~*~

_1._

‘’I’ll find you again,’’ Stephen promises him, trying to burn the image of Tony’s face to his mind. He does not have long - they will find him. He does not doubt it.

‘’What did you do?’’ Tony whispers, and Stephen wishes he didn’t look so afraid. He never wanted to hurt him - he just wanted more time. And Stephen knows he’ll end up dead before the day is over. The London Home of Witchcraft is being attacked and Stephen took a vow to never harm anyone with their magic. 

But Stephen hasn’t harmed Tony, even if he felt Tony’s soul getting heavier under his fingertips, the weight keeping him bound to this world for more than a single lifetime - and Stephen’s soul bound to Tony. 

(_The heart is full five times five, I’ll find you once again alive_, he’d whispered, his eyes prickling with tears. He remembers the Old One’s words, his stern gaze as he’d pried the book away from Stephen. No one would ever be strong enough to use that spell, the man had believed. _Five times five the heart will take, and I’ll be once again awake_.)

He runs, and that is the last time he ever sees Tony.

(That’s not completely true. He is suffocating the last time he sees Tony, trying to catch his breath as his hands try to pull on the noose. People are cheering and yelling at him, but Tony stands there in the middle of the crowd. He is yelling something, maybe, but Stephen can’t hear. He closes his eyes, so he can focus on the sound.

He never opens his eyes again, and he prefers to pretend he never died in such a horrible way. He prefers to pretend Tony knew what he wanted all along, and that he’d never married, and that he’d stayed with Stephen. Things wouldn’t have gone so horribly wrong, had Tony just realized what he really wanted a bit earlier.

Except that is just a way to blame Tony for what Stephen did.)

~*~

_19._

Fumbling in the dark is not such a hardship, when your lover is a wealthy young man. Anyone who even has an inkling of what Tony and Stephen are up to – well, they look away. Mr Stark is grieving, after all, and Stephen Strange is not the wrong sort of company.

Well, perhaps he is. He won’t be a respectable doctor anymore, after this is over.

‘’I can take it,’’ Tony whispers, his voice rough from the overabundance of alcohol last night. Stephen lies with him in the bed, half on top of him. Both of them are naked under the covers, familiar with each other. The room is a forgiving sort of quiet, unlike the evening before.

Stephen just doesn’t want to hurt him. ‘’You’ve never done this before,’’ he reminds the man, though his fingers wander over Tony’s body. He has lived so many lives, and yet he will never have enough of this. These are the lifetimes that give him the strength to continue – the hope for the future. The lifetimes where Tony will allow Stephen to touch him and love him, and will do the same.

Stephen does not know if Tony would allow him to, if he remembered. Then again, Tony has never remembered.

‘’A first time for everything,’’ Tony says, though his voice sounds a bit strained when Stephen moves a finger to his lower back. ‘’You seemed to enjoy it well enough, last night.’’

That is certainly true. Then again, there is not much that Tony can do wrong, in Stephen’s eyes. He is fully aware of his own bias when it comes to Tony, but then again – Stephen wouldn’t let himself be touched by anyone else. Not even in his most desperate moments. Tony is all he’ll ever need.

‘’Only because it’s you,’’ he mutters, maybe a bit too honest. A bit too raw.

Tony is silent for a moment. Stephen knows, of course – he can see the signs. Tony is falling for him, slowly, falling for whatever he thinks Stephen is. He’s not fully there yet, but he’ll let this pass. It’s a good sign. A sign he’ll let Stephen continue.

‘’Just try me,’’ Tony says. ‘’You’re a doctor, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.’’

Stephen huffs out a laugh. He’s quite sure of the opposite, but he’ll let Tony believe it. He hoists himself onto the man, enjoying the way Tony lets out a ragged breath. With a bruising kiss, he starts moving his hands for his lover’s pleasure, enjoying the sight of Tony’s flushed face.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s trying to learn. Trying to hold onto this, while he can. After all, everything has always fallen apart before. There’s no guarantee that it won’t be the same now, but – he can hope. Hope Tony will always keep writhing like this under him, Stephen’s name at the top of his lungs, his eyes dark and lusting and his lips on Stephen’s skin.

He doesn’t yet know how much of a mistake hoping is, though he should have known better by now.

~*~

_3._

His Sanctum is proving a safe haven to any sorcerer who is in need of it, and he is glad. But Stephen always looks out for Tony, determined to make the most of their situation. If he could only just find him and befriend him again, and in time -

He sees Tony, walking down the streets. It’s crowded, and Stephen starts running after him. But he cannot find him again, and he waits for years and years on the same street, hoping to catch sight of him again.

(This is the lifetime that Stephen learns that he may not get to meet Tony, every lifetime. This is the lifetime he realizes that Tony does not remember, may never remember again, and that Stephen will always be alone, in a certain way. That even if Tony finds him, he will remain blissfully unaware of the past between them.)

He never meets Tony in this life, nor does he in the fourth. 

(Or in the fifth. He pretends that it is better, like this, but when he sees him in the sixth, he is infinitely relieved.)

~*~

_21._

Sometimes, he remembers too late.

Black Sunday, they’ll call it, he finds out a lifetime later. It’s a week before his best friend Tony’s seventh birthday, and they’re playing a game. Hide and seek, like all children play. Tony can’t play many other games, because of his asthma. Stephen has never minded.

The storm hits too sudden for the two children to have perceived. In minutes, the day is a facsimile of the blackest night Stephen has ever seen, starless and moonless. He calls out for his friend, covering his mouth with his shirt.

The memories come back to him when he finds Tony, coughing his lungs out. His face is black from the dirt, except from where the tear tracks have cleared it off. His eyes are huge as he looks at Stephen, trying to bring out words but unable to. He can’t breathe, Stephen can see.

He remembers their former life, Tony dying under his hands, promising that he’d find him in the next. Promising that they’d be happy.

They’re all such liars, aren’t they?

Stephen stops caring about inhaling the dirty air, even if he knows it’ll be fatal. He tugs at Tony’s body and cries and shouts and does everything that he knows will not work. 

The next morning, two young bodies are found, clinging to each other, dead by dust.

~*~

_1._

‘’Sunset,’’ Tony says, breaking into Stephen’s room in the London Home of Witchcraft. At first, he is surprised to see his lifelong lover standing there; the despair in Tony’s eyes quickly turn his mind to other matters.

‘’Is she ill, your wife?’’ Stephen says, trying not to sound too scathing. He hasn’t seen Tony in months, and here he turns up unexpectedly; the first word out of his mouth is the name of the wife that Stephen hates.

‘’She told the pastor,’’ Tony breathes, and hugs Stephen. ‘’I’m so sorry, she told him about your mother, that she was a witch, that you are too - they’re coming here, Stephen, she told them about this place.’’

‘’You told her?’’ Stephen asks, his agitation growing. ‘’My mother - is she safe?’’

‘’She’s dead,’’ Tony says, and loosens himself from Stephen’s hold. His eyes are red and swollen, and Stephen doesn’t doubt he left behind everything to come and find him. ‘’It’s not too late for you, Stephen, we have to run - you can use your magic to get away, they’ll be here soon, you have to -’’

Stephen closes his eyes. There is nowhere he can run - nowhere for him to be safe, if the Church knows about the London Home. Tony has told Sunset Bain, and she has betrayed them all into their deaths. Why? Had she known what Stephen felt? Had Tony told her that, too?

They are going to die, and they will never spend their lives together. Except -

He remembers the spell. ‘’Come,’’ he tells Tony, ‘’I know what to do.’’ 

Tony, ever trusting of him, follows. Stephen wishes for all following lifetimes that he hadn’t.

~*~

_24._

In this life, he only remembers when she is dead.

The Ancient One stands on the balcony, not looking up as Stephen joins her. She thinks she is dying, but she does not sound upset at it. Merely sad, gazing at rumbling sky. 

‘’You do not remember yet, do you?’’ she asks, and sighs. ‘’I would have wanted to speak with you a final time, but perhaps it is meant to be like this. It’s a funny little thing, isn’t it, fate? If you still believe in it, that is.’’

‘’I don’t understand,’’ he says. ‘’What don’t I remember?’’

‘’We don’t get to choose our own time,’’ she says kindly, though she does not look at him while she says it. It sounds like an inside joke, for some reason. It sounds like something he should understand. ‘’Death is what gives life meaning. To know your days are numbered – your time is short. You’d think that after all this time I’d be ready. Look at me, stretching one moment out into a thousand, just so that I can watch the snow.’’

A lightning bolt lights up the world, for a few moments. It is mesmerizing, but Stephen does not understand. 

When he looks back at her, she is gone. For a single moment, he does not understand why he feels so lost - so bereaved of companionship. A second later, the memories of twenty-three lifetimes smash into him, and he buckles under the weight.

Gillian is gone, and he knows exactly who and where Tony is, in this life. He takes a deep breath - he has a task, now the Ancient One is gone. His dearest friend dead, and Tony in love with someone else. This will not be the lifetime that they can spend together - just like the rest of the lifetimes didn’t work out, either.

He is so, so tired. Only one more life, after this.

~*~

_15._

Somehow, Stephen hadn’t expected to die a second time with a noose around his neck, hanged for the same reason. And yet, here he is, accused of witchcraft once again. He’d laugh, except it isn’t funny.

He hadn’t even done anything particularly noticeable, this time. He’d kept to himself, certain of a quiet life. As it turns out, Salem wasn’t a guarantee to a quiet life, but rather a painful death. 

He just stands there, silent. He doesn’t relish dying like this once again, but there is nothing to be done for it. At least he’d never met Tony, and he hadn’t -

His eyes meet Tony’s.

He is certain that Tony calls out his name the moment the ground disappears underneath Stephen’s feet and he grasps for the noose, a mockery of his very first death. He thrashes as he fights to breathe, tries to call out _one more time_ -

He doesn’t close his eyes, this time. He focuses on Tony, who is pushing through the crowd, trying to get to him -

Stephen dies.

(He convinces himself he just imagined it, next life. It was just a mirage, an illusion created by himself in his final moments. He only saw Tony because he wanted to see Tony -

it wasn’t real. It can’t have been.)

~*~

_2._

‘’I’m sorry, Stephen,’’ Tony says. His smile is meant to comfort Stephen, he thinks, but it only makes him feel so much worse. ‘’I don’t know – I just – you don’t have to lie to me, you know?’’

‘’Don’t you remember?’’ Stephen pleads. He has befriended the baker’s son – three years ago, when he first remembered. Three years, he’s watched Tony carefully for signs of him remembering. But as it turns out, Tony has no recollection of what happened at all.

Tony sighs, scratching his head. It feels much like dismissal. ‘’I don’t know what to say,’’ Tony says helplessly. ‘’Maybe it was a dream –‘’

‘’It wasn’t a dream,’’ Stephen says harshly. ‘’It was real. How can you not remember? Can’t you see what’s going on here?’’

He is shouting by the end of it. Tony’s answering silence only makes it that much more humiliating – Stephen is supposed to be above this. He is a wizard, isn’t he? His mother – his first mother – taught him patience and love for all humans. He had been a _healer_, and they’d killed him for it.

‘’Perhaps,’’ Tony starts, ‘’it’d be better if you didn’t see me again.’’

‘’You can’t mean that. Tony, if I –‘’

‘’I’m serious, Stephen. I don’t even understand why you befriended me in the first place. I’m working at the bakery full-time, now. They need me. And you are rich and powerful – there is nothing here we should be friends over. We are two completely different people.’’

Stephen used to be a poor village boy, like Tony was. Society comes in between them – Tony has never felt comfortable with him in this life, he knows this. But behind all the facades, he knows that Tony is all he was before, and more. Still the witty and sharp man – a kind word always at the ready, and forever ready to help. Feeling too much, and loving too much. Trusting too easily, and that had killed him.

Though he can’t seem to trust Stephen, this time around.

‘’I love you,’’ Stephen says. His last gamble – his final words. Tony will not be able to refuse him. He is certain that he will remember now, that they can finally be together after that suffocating end of his last life –

Tony’s face falls shut. ‘’Don’t come here again,’’ he says, and leaves.

~*~

_19._

Tony starts coughing up blood four weeks after his father’s death. It has only been a short while, but Stephen already knows there is nothing to be done. Tony is pale and agitated – he knows as well. There is nothing to do but accept that the White Plague has claimed yet another victim. Stephen would cry, except that he knew. He knew nothing good would come from this.

‘’Stephen,’’ Tony says when he is in bed. Only a few weeks ago, they had moved together in the same place, and Stephen had enjoyed Tony’s moans. ‘’You’ve got to live. Maybe you’re not ill. You can’t die for me. It’s too late for me, but you – you can find someone else. Please. This isn’t your end.’’

‘’I’m not leaving,’’ he says calmly. There is no use. Tony will have caught the illness weeks ago, from his father. And it is inescapable that Stephen will have caught it, too. The best thing they can do is stay together and harm no one else.

Those dark eyes rest on his. Tony lets out a shaking sigh before he puts back his covers. It is a blatant invitation, and Stephen cannot care about something like indecency or status. Not when they only have such a short time left, and Tony finally wants him.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ Tony whispers, after Stephen has crawled into his bed. ‘’I’m so, so sorry.’’

Stephen presses a kiss against his brow. ‘’It’s okay,’’ he says.

Six lives left. Surely, he can find one where it’ll work.

Please, let him find one where they can be together. He can’t let all these twenty-five lives be in vain.

~*~

_24._

(It is not only one more life – not for Stephen. Dormammu comes, and he kills him time and time and time and time and time and time –

Perhaps it is only one life. But it is certainly a thousand deaths, and he will never forget this pain.)

Stephen never goes to visit Tony. He does not know what he would say. Only when the time comes, and he dies once again – goes up in dust, and half the world with him – he wishes he’d said something else.

_I’m so sorry, Tony. There was no other way._

But what would Tony care about his apology? What would he do to a man who cursed him so heinously? What would he do if he knew that Stephen had done it for love?

What would he say if he knew Stephen would kill him _despite_ love?

~*~

_17._

Stephen is sixty-eight in this lifetime, and he watches a child play on the street. He knows those eyes, though – he has seen them in his dreams, as they watched him in adoration. As they glistened with tears, and the playfulness when he teases Stephen.

‘’Is that your child?’’ he asks the woman who watches the child as well. Her eyes are equally dark.

‘’Oh yes,’’ she says readily. ‘’My Anthony. Isn’t he a sweet child?’’

Stephen has to try his best not to grimace. All this time waiting – he must have missed Tony’s previous life, and he must have been reborn already. He can’t be more than eight.

‘’He looks like a happy child,’’ he says, and nods. Tears prickle in his eyes – all this waiting, and Tony is a child. There’s sixty years dividing them, and he can never spend any time with him.

This has not been a useless life. And yet, without Tony – everything is just a little bleaker. With a final smile towards Maria, he starts walking again. Out of the street, and out of Tony’s life. It will be better for him, without Stephen there. Maybe he’ll find a wife again, someone who will love him.

(No one will love him quite like Stephen, but it is not to be. It is never to be.)

Gillian is waiting for him at the London Sanctum. She knows immediately. ‘’You saw him,’’ she says, her voice low.

Stephen smiles grimly. ‘’He’s eight,’’ he says. The words echo.

Her eyes sharpen. She may be the only person in the world who knows – Tony never remembers, but Gillian has found a way of staying alive. Stephen has never asked her how – he is not sure he wants to. If she is doing it with a darker kind of magic, he is best off not knowing.

(He is not sure that he will not be jealous of her way of maintaining her life. He doesn’t know if he’ll begrudge her for it, if she tells him.)

‘’There’s still quite a few left,’’ she says. A hollow consolation. Every lifetime Stephen has shared with Tony has ended in pain and heartbreak. Only their first life entailed more than just a few months of being together. Perhaps this is his fate – his punishment.

‘’Eight more to go,’’ he says, calculating. He missed Tony’s sixteenth life. He wonders what he missed, but Tony will never tell him –

And in the end, does it really matter?

~*~

_18._

‘’It was just a night, Strange,’’ Tony says, his voice dark. He smells of booze, and Stephen knows that this life hasn’t been easy on him. He can relate to wanting to lose yourself in the lure of alcohol, the dreamless sleeps, the mindless gambles, the meaningless sex –

But if he gives in, he will never give it up again. And Stephen still hopes that he’ll get a lifetime. Or perhaps just one more night. The latter doesn’t even seem likely, so he holds out no hope for the former, this time.

‘’Please,’’ he says.

Tony laughs in his face, and shuts his door. There will be another person warming his bed, tonight. Someone who means just as little as he did, last night. Stephen hasn’t cried in a long time, but the rain is pouring, and no one will see.

He is just so tired.

~*~

_19._

‘’Come on,’’ Gillian murmurs when she finds him, taking his arm and helping him up. ‘’The London Sanctum is nearby. You deserve a better death than this.’’

He thinks of Tony, coughing his lungs out. He hates this illness, hates it - he would’ve had a chance, if not for the consumption. He hates that Tony died first, too. He hates seeing his brown eyes so lifelessly staring up, knowing that he will have to do this again in the next life. If they’ll even meet, next life.

‘’I’ll wake up again after,’’ he says, his lips tasting like blood. ‘’I always do.’’

He does not know if she says anything afterwards. He does not even remember if he ever made it to the Sanctum, before he died.

~*~

_1._

‘’Don’t you ever think about marrying?’’ Tony asks. He lies on Stephen’s chest, tracing figures on his belly. He pulls a little on some of the hairs and Stephen hisses, pushing him away.

‘’Why would I?’’ he asks sharply. ‘’I don’t want a woman. None of them appeals to me.’’

Tony snorts. ‘’You’d think like that,’’ he says. ‘’I don’t know. My mum keeps asking me when I’m going to find a wife. Have children. There needs to be someone to keep up the work, my dad says. I don’t know.’’

Stephen’s heart tightens at the thought of Tony finding a wife. Leaving him. ‘’What about us?’’ he murmurs, trying not to sound too accusing. ‘’You’ll leave me by myself?’’

‘’Well, you could find a wife too,’’ Tony says, and even the thought of it alone makes Stephen sick. He does not want a wife – he meant it when he said that none of them appeal to him. No one has ever made him feel like Tony does. ‘’It doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.’’

‘’I can’t do this, if you have a wife,’’ Stephen says pointedly, and twirls them around so that he’s on top now. His lips are close enough to Tony so that he could kiss him, but he just remains there, breathing on Tony’s face. Tony’s eyes are dark and full of want. Stephen roams with his hands, touching everywhere but the place Tony wants him to.

Tony huffs and sits up, forcing Stephen to get off him. ‘’It’s different for you,’’ he says, despite the blush in his cheeks. Stephen loves seeing him undone like this. ‘’You’re a wizard. What do wizards even do, for a living?’’

‘’You know what I do, Tony,’’ Stephen says. ‘’My magic is enough to get us through. We can leave this place. You don’t have to marry one of those mindless girls your father wants you to.’’

‘’Someone is going to figure this out,’’ Tony says, and this isn’t the first time they’ve had this argument.

Stephen turns. ‘’Not if we’re –‘’

‘’For God’s sake, Stephen, no. If no one is going to figure _us_ out, they’ll figure out your magic, or your mother’s, or they’ll guess well enough. There is an end to this, and you don’t seem to realize that. You have to lay low. Marry someone, or let me marry. Before they kill either one of us.’’

‘’This isn’t the end,’’ Stephen insists, and doesn’t yet know how right he is. ‘’Come with me. My mother always said I am particularly talented – there is a place in London where there are other sorcerers. People who can teach me more than I know now. It’ll be enough for us to live on.’’

‘’I can’t come,’’ Tony tells him, his voice quiet. He sits up, gathering his clothes. Stephen wants him to stay, more than anything else, wants him to come back to bed and make love to him and forget everything else.

‘’But we’re –‘’

‘’I can’t come, Stephen,’’ Tony turns to him. He doesn’t sound angry anymore, just weary. ‘’My mother’s ill, alright? She’s not – we can’t – she’s going to die, probably. And I know she wants to see me married – taken care of. You know how I feel about you, you know I do, but it had to end somewhere. Look, I’ll marry someone. You don’t have to – you can still come and see me, alright? We don’t have to end anything, but if we want to keep it up, something has to change.’’

Tony looks so earnestly sad that Stephen can’t help but nod. Tony just kisses him in relief, and Stephen can pretend it’s enough. Can pretend that he doesn’t want anything but share this life with Tony, without having to pretend.

Tony marries Sunset Bain next June. Stephen watches her as she kisses the only person he has ever loved – will ever love – and congratulates them. It comes out like a lie, and Tony regards him with more regret than Stephen has ever seen from him.

But if Tony wants to say something, he doesn’t. He goes back to his home with his new wife and presumably get acquainted with her in ways only Stephen ever was. He wonders if she’ll be to Tony’s liking. If she’ll kiss the scars on his hands that come from his metalwork. If he’ll whisper her name in the same way he always did Stephen’s.

He leaves for London the next day, without telling Tony.

~*~

_24._

The Sanctum thrives under Stephen’s guidance. He remembers the look in Tony’s eyes as Stephen held up his one finger; he remembers the dead-eyed stare as Tony passed. He thinks of Pepper Potts, mourning the man she had loved.

He fully well knows how she feels.

The Sanctum thrives, and Earth is as safe as it can be expected to be. Stephen does not know if he’ll get one more life, after this one. Tony Stark is dead; has been dead for years. He may have been reborn already. He may be out living his twenty-fifth life, while Stephen is still here mourning for his twenty-fourth.

He doesn’t go out to look for him. He isn’t sure he even wants to find him. All he does is protect his reality and look after Morgan Stark. Witty and dark-eyed, he can’t help wanting the best for her. If Pepper Potts is surprised by the occasional visit from a mysterious sorcerer, she never says so.

Tony fell in love with a wonderful woman, in this life. A better person than Stephen ever was, at any rate. She is perceptive and kind – maybe she doesn’t need to ask Stephen why he comes. Maybe she already knows everything she needs to know.

Stephen lives out a quiet life as the Sorcerer Supreme, and expects his final breath in this life to be his final breath altogether.

It isn’t.

~*~

_12._

There is one life which Stephen particularly likes. The one where Tony comes to the Sanctum. The sixteenth century isn’t one in which sorcerers are much liked, but Stephen has ways of protecting his own home. Gillian has adopted the moniker she joked about, all those years ago, though it is more apt than anything else.

He does not mean to ask her how she has achieved this. It would be nothing but hypocritical, considering he bound his own soul to Tony’s. And Tony still has quite some lives to lead before he’ll disappear to wherever people go, when they die.

(Some part of Stephen is curious. He should’ve known, by now. He should’ve known for centuries already.)

Tony asks for sanctuary in the Sanctum, and Stephen grants it, of course. It doesn’t matter that Tony is only a slightly-below-average sorcerer at best; Stephen enjoys explaining this to Tony. If nothing else, his lover has always been curious about everything. It’s merely a surprise he didn’t turn up at the Sanctum before.

They are nothing more than friends, in this one. Tony never shows any interest in anything but his spells and his inventions, and Stephen is content with this. He is still reeling from all the heartbreak from the past lives, and though he wants nothing more than to take Tony in his arms and tell him how much he means, he suspects this may be the next best thing.

Maybe he is just afraid of scaring Tony off. Maybe he is afraid of Tony falling in love with him without knowing the truth. Maybe he is just afraid, full stop. His love for Tony has never done either of them any favours, and he is acutely aware of the fact. Perhaps if he stops being so selfish, he can have something better.

Tony still dies, eventually. Stephen should stop being so surprised to feel his heart break. It hasn’t been whole for a long time, now.

~*~

_14._

‘’Why don’t you remember?’’ Stephen mutters, pressing kisses against Tony’s chest. Tony slumbers on, one side of his face marked by the pillow.

Stephen loves him. Stephen burns with the love – all the memories of every lifetime, all the times that Tony kissed him and loved him.

Stephen wills Tony to remember, but he never does.

(He appreciates never knowing the answer to this question. He is quite sure it’s his own fault, after all.)

~*~

_24._

He shakes with the endless possibilities. The endless losses and deaths and griefs. There is no other way - he thinks of the last option he saw.

There must be a special place in hell for people like him. After one more life, he may be able to get there. Perhaps even that’ll hurt less than the knowledge of what he has to do now.

‘’I went forward in time to view alternate futures.’’ The words fall from his lips like a doom. He feels like the worst of traitors. ‘’To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.’’

‘’How many did you see?’’ Stephen focuses on Peter Quill, despite the desire to reach out for Tony one last time. Perhaps he should be glad Tony never remembers - he doesn’t know if this is something that can be forgiven.

‘’Fourteen million six hundred and five.’’

‘’How many did we win?’’ Tony’s gaze is fixed on him. Stephen does not know if he can bear this anymore - but there are some things beyond him. 

One word. It’s all he has to say, and they will listen to him. Stephen Strange, prophet of doom. Prophet of death. Tony’s forgiveness may not matter - he’ll do what he must. It’s the kind of person he is, so kind and willing to give everything he has. Stephen just doesn’t know if he can forgive himself.

‘’One,’’ he says quietly.

One chance to win, and one more life to live after this one.

(_This is not about you_, he keeps telling himself. _This is not about you_, and _death is what gives life meaning_. There is not a more meaningful cause Tony could have died for.

But God, Stephen blames himself nonetheless. What is death, after all, when you have always woken up again? What is it except the certainty that the next life will end just as bitterly?)

~*~

_1._

Tony breathes out softly next to him in bed. Stephen lies awake, sleep continuously evading him. 

He’ll do anything to keep this, he realizes. At that moment in time, he thinks that’s a good thing. It will take him a few lifetimes to understand that there is a point of no return - a thing that can’t be undone. 

Even after understanding that, he’s still not sure he wouldn’t have done the same thing, had he had the choice once again. After all, despite all the death and heartbreak and pain, he has gotten -

what has he gotten?

Time. Too much of it, but it’s more than some others have.

~*~

_25._

Stephen is studying philosophy, this time. He likes the uncertainty of it – he likes the quiet and calm. For everything he has always done, he has never searched for answers in the corner of science where everyone searches for answers. Perhaps because, even after all the centuries, he’s only learning now that sometimes, certain things have no answer. Certain things just _are_.

(‘’That doesn’t make any sense,’’ he snarls at the Ancient One in his former life, when he hasn’t regained his memories yet.

She smiles, wiser than he’ll ever be. ‘’Not everything does. Not everything has to.’’)

A knock on the door disturbs him. He shakes his head as he lays aside his book - he has no idea who would bother him on a Friday night. The few acquaintances he has made on the university know better than to ask him to come - he is just tired. He didn’t expect to live this life, and he just wants to make it a quiet affair. 

The knock comes again. ‘’I’m coming,’’ he yells, stretching out from the bed and opening the door. He opens the door, and the young man on the other side smiles. Dark brown eyes twinkle in good humour and he leans against the wall, eyeing him curiously.

Stephen remembers a noose as he loses the ability to breathe.

‘’You’re a difficult person to find,’’ Tony says quietly, shuffling despite the tilt to his lips. ‘’Didn’t know if I’d find you. It was harder, the other times. Do you remember the Salem witch trials? God, I’d looked for you all over. To find you there, hanging on that noose, and knowing I was too late - well. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’’

‘’I don’t understand,’’ Stephen says, and he can’t move. The croak in his voice gives him away, and Tony takes a step closer. His breath catches as well, and Stephen thinks back to the times he has seen Tony dying, struggling to breathe - the consumption that took him, the Black Sunday that stole his air. 

‘’Five times five,’’ Tony murmurs, and reaches up to caress Stephen’s cheek. ‘’Twenty-five lifetimes, and I’d remember every other five lifetimes. I couldn’t find you in my fifth and tenth, and I was only in time to see you die in my fifteenth. I remembered too late during the World War to do anything about it, but this is twenty-five. I can make this one count.’’

And then he kisses him. Stephen’s mind goes numb before instinct kicks in, and he moves a hand up to Tony’s jaw. The last time he was allowed to do this was five lifetimes ago, but it’s as if he was born to do this. He breaks apart after - how long has it been? They’re still in the same lifetime, they’re still in the same room. 

He can only clutch Tony tighter, willing him to stay here. A fear grows in his chest – he has never had Tony for more than a few weeks. A few months, at most. The last time he had years was their first lifetime together, and that ended with a curse and death.

He is afraid, he realizes. Twenty-five lifetimes, and he is only realizing now that he is afraid.

Tony pulls away, but his nose remains pressed against Stephen’s, his breath ghosting over his mouth.

‘’I can’t lose you again,’’ Stephen says, and feels the panic settle in his chest. ‘’I’ve seen you die so often, Tony. I can’t – I’m not strong enough for this. Not knowing this will be the last time. Not after everything I did to you.’’

Tony doesn’t look surprised. He presses his forehead against Stephen’s, closing his eyes. A single kiss is pressed to his lips, feather-light and then gone again - like Tony always is. 

‘’You,’’ Tony starts, ‘’are the strongest man I know. I’ve lived twenty-four lives - well, more or less. Some shorter than others, some more meaningful. You always made it better for being in there. We’ve had these lives. We’ve made mistakes, both of us. But we’re here now, and we have a chance to make something of this last life. You’ve been at my side for so many centuries, and now I can be at yours. There’s nothing else that matters.’’

‘’You’ll die again.’’ Stephen doesn’t know if he can deal with that again. Even as the words leave his lips, he feels the fear tug at him again. He’s seen so many horrible ways to die and yet his mind can conjure up even more.

A small smile tugs at Tony’s lips. ‘’Everyone dies,’’ he points out. ‘’’Don’t you know, Stephen? Death is what gives life meaning.’’

‘’I killed you, the last one,’’ Stephen says. ‘’I did all of this to you.’’

‘’I forgive you,’’ Tony says, his eyes not leaving Stephen’s. ‘’I’ve forgiven you twenty-five times over, Stephen. I don’t regret dying - not the last one. Besides, I’ve done some pretty horrible stuff to you in some past lives, so I’d say we’re even.’’

‘’But -’’

‘’We both did what we had to do, to stop Thanos. To save the world, and we did. Here’s another chance for us to just _live_. It’s more than other people get. So take it, and stop worrying about the past.’’

‘’I don’t think I can let go of you, at this point,’’ Stephen tells him honestly, and sighs. ‘’You’re not going to let this go, are you?’’

‘’I’ve been told that I’m very convincing.’’

‘’That’s twenty-four lifetimes ago, asshole.’’

‘’Well, then I’ve had twenty-four lives to hone the skill, haven’t I? Come on, Stephen. We both know you can’t fool me.’’

Stephen smiles. Indeed, he can’t. He’s never been able to, and he doesn’t even want to, now Tony’s eyes give away all the relief and hope he is feeling. Stephen kisses him again, and Tony mellows against him. There is no why or how to this situation – there is only them. It has taken him twenty-five lifetimes to learn that hunting your happiness will not guarantee it, and just as long that not everything requires an answer.

The only thing that matters is Tony here, smiling up at him in his arms, and the chance they have today. There is the pain of twenty-four lifetimes - but maybe this one lifetime will be enough. Maybe this will be worth all the pain and heartbreak. He will never know if he doesn’t take the chance - the one life.

He takes it, and never looks back.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say thanks to [Turtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_abyss) for helping me out so much with this! We had a lot of fun devising ways thinking of the most emotionally painful ways for Stephen and Tony to die and I like to think her helpful insights made this thing angstier (I'm actually quite sure of that).


End file.
